Death's Blue Eyes
by Asashi Kaigami
Summary: This is actually an original story, for a comic that I'm working on. I'll spoil it a little and say that the blue eyed girl is one of the main characters in the comic. This is pretty much a little summery of major happenings in her childhood through the e


She sits beside me as I lay here, partially covered by a faded blue fleece blanket, edges torn, threads hanging. In this damp cardboard box, I know I'm dying; I can feel it. She's staring into space, the way she always does, ignoring the others. I can hear them too, sitting near the rain puddles and pot holes in this dark alleyway. They whisper that she killed me, that she doesn't really care, that they shouldn't have followed her. They've said it all before, but they still follow her. I've always liked her though. I think she does care, but in her own way. She's just… sad. Bitter. Hateful. They say she was the first. She told me once that it was an accident. She happened to be in the room while Seita was closing a deal and the man asked for her as well. She told me once that Seita would sell anything for a price, and her price was decided that night. But if you can't pay what he demands, beware, he'll take everything from you. That's how I got here.

She's hovering over me, waiting for me to die. I don't know why, but it calms me. The wind is blowing softly through the streets and alleyways carrying the smell of rain and mud. I can't speak, but I can see her blue blue eyes. None of us has eyes like hers, so blue… Only Seita, his eyes are blue blue like hers. They even look a lot alike too. Only the tufts of her ears gives her away. They say he was the man that spawned her. Her father. She refuses to speak of him. I can't imagine how she feels. He's controlled our lives for years. So many years. They all blend together now and become one, and yet it seemed an eternity.

She's leaving now. Two of the others are fighting over some scraps of food they must've found in a dumpster. She'll walk over to them, take the food, and divide it evenly between them. Then she'll tell them to always share, share or be gone. Her sort, cold voice is both calming and eerie. She doesn't demand respect, and sometimes I even think that she doesn't want it. But we give it anyways. I remember the day we escaped. It was almost an accident. She had just been returned to the room after one of Seita's buyers was done with her. Seita returned her himself. He always did, she had fooled his lackeys too many times before. He threw her forcefully into the room. She spat something in Vietnamese to him. I don't know what, I don't speak it. He only laughed as she crawled to our bed, the one us two shared. She leaned on the bed a moment, then ran at him. Caught everyone off guard, even him. Anger and hatred in those blue blue eyes. Anger, hatred, and something else, couldn't tell what. Terror filled me. I didn't understand. She tackled him. Seita is a huge man, even larger than my daddy was. He towers over all of us, especially her. Already she was ten years old, only two years younger than me, but barely she stood four feet tall. I was already five. And still she tackled him. Not a sound escaped her lips. She pounded at him with her small fists. A flicker of light, a streak of fear in Seita's cold blue eyes, and he fell. I didn't understand; how did she do it? She jumped up then, paused a moment, staring down at him, then ran. I saw it then, and I understood. Blood. Had she hidden a knife under our bed? I understood now, and she was gone. I don't remember who ran after her first, but I knew that I had to too. I knew Seita wasn't dead because he was shouting profanities and trying to catch us as we ran. Footsteps in the hall, his lackeys were coming. Not everyone ran, and not all who ran made it. Somehow I got out of that horrid house and found her, running through yards. Running running. Away. Anywhere but that horrid house. Only four others were with me. Together we ran after her. We thought we were free. We thought she'd save us.

She's returning now. She looks tired. And something else. Envy? Is she envious that I'm dying? The sounds of the street are dying as dusk approaches. I can still see a bit of the amber-pink sky through a hole in the top of the box. She sits again, no words, and waits. Another cool wind blows by. Her short black hair, misshapen and cut awkwardly, sways slightly. She cut it herself, as an act of defiance against Seita. No one knows where she got the scissors. I was there that day she first cut it. I was ten that year, and already I'd been in that horrid house for almost a year, staying with her in that bed we shared. A man, one of Seita's lackeys, was dragging her be her long long hair. Into the room and to our bed. He kicked her, never letting go of that hair. She was like a doll, hanging from his hands by her hair. She had been disagreeable with a buyer and this was her punishment. Again he kicked her. Not a sound from her lips, no tears. The man dropped her then, leaving her on the floor at the foot of our bed, and left. Gone. She sat up slowly then. No words. From a fold in her skirt she pulled a pair of scissors. Snip snap, chunks of hair. More and more. No words. Her blue blue eyes full of hate and resent. Snip snap, all gone. A slight smile, a little quirk. She shoved the scissors into a hole in our mattress. Her hair was so short I could see the scalp in some places. Then came Seita, probably to give a piece of his mind to her about how she acted to the buyer. But then he saw her hair on the floor. All gone. Surprise, then anger flashed in those clod blue eyes. One, two, three strides to our bed and he punched her. Again and again. Tore her clothes off. She curled up in a ball but he beat her more. No sound. No tears. I thought she would die, but suddenly he stopped. He screamed at her then, "Where is it?" No answer. She lay naked on the floor, silent, lax, her discarded hair all around her. He kicked her. Again, "Where is it?" He turned then and tore the mattress off the bed, throwing me off as well. Not there. The box spring too, lifted it up and threw it over. Thought it would crush me as I scrambled under the bed. Not there either. He scowled then left. He never did find those scissors. I could see her naked body from where I hid. Not moving. I crawled out and looked at her closely. Eyes open, barely breathing. Her blue blue eyes looked distant, almost empty, but not quite. Still there, but not really. I curled up next to her and cried for her. That was where we slept that night and for the three nights that followed. On the floor, with her hair as our bedding, never moving.

I'm losing feeling now. The wind keeps blowing, I can see the corners of the box fluttering, but I can't feel its coldness. Her hand passes over my face, wiping away a stray hair. Nothing. It won't be long now. For some reason it pleases me that she's here with me. Waiting for death with me. I want to cry, but I can't. The first night that I met her I couldn't stop crying. I still lived with my parents before that. Early that evening, but after I had gone to bed, I heard something in the hallway. Something I knew wasn't Mama or Daddy. I went to peek through my cracked door. Closer, closer. Peering out carefully, I saw the lights were on. Someone in black approached my door. Should I hide? Too slow. He burst through the door, knocking me back. He was a big man. He scared me. No time to scream, too scared anyways. He smiled, so creepy, then picked me up and carried me away to Mama and Daddy's room. I could hear Mama screaming. Muffled, but screaming screaming. Then it stopped. I didn't know what was happening. The man who was carrying me kicked the door in. Holding me out with both hands he announced, "Look what I found Seita!" That huge man named Seita, tying my Mama to a chair. She looked dead. Beaten and limp, but her eyes were open and tears streamed silently down her face. I didn't understand what happened to her. Daddy was tied to a chair too. No sound, something was stuffed in his mouth. Don't know what. He was crying too. I was scared. Seita looked at me then. Smiled. So scared. "Pretty little face," he told me. So so scared. Didn't understand why. He grabbed me then, and threw me onto the bed. Knew I should run, but too scared. Seita pushed me down on my back, into the bed. Didn't understand. Pushed my legs apart. Didn't understand. Then pain. Oh the pain. Last thing I remembered was my daddy's muffled screams and that huge man's laugh. And the pain. I woke up many hours later. Didn't know where. It was dark. Couldn't move, still in too much pain. Didn't know where I was, just not home. So much pain. Couldn't hold it anymore, I cried. Silently at first, then a little louder. That was when I noticed her, lying next to me. She rolled over and draped an arm on me. "Do not cry, he like it," she told me. Soft and calm. And yet so sad. But I couldn't stop. I lay beside her all night and just cried.

I'm losing my hearing now. I can hardly hear the others anymore, much less the noises of the street beyond our alleyway. I know I should be thinking of my parents in heaven. I'm sure they're waiting for me there. But all I can think of is her. I've shared my life and bed with her for three long long years. She used to tell me that she envied me because I had hope. I envied her because she had strength. Now I've lost my hope, and so I'm dying. But she still has her strength. Strength to live without hope. Even my vision is fading now. I know this is the end. She leans over me one more time. She's saying something. Can't hear. Can't even read her lips. Maybe she's speaking in Vietnamese again. Everything is becoming blurry, the darkness taking over. But I can still see the color of her eyes. Her blue blue eyes.


End file.
